


a forest of colours

by cosmoscrow



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Female Farmer - Freeform, GIVE ME MORE JUNIMO LORE, Humor, Magic, Selectively Mute Farmer, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements, expansion of lore, exploration of lore, i guess??, inconsistent lore?, more or less headcanon based, selective mutism, self indulgent bc i love my farmer, sounds like free real estate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoscrow/pseuds/cosmoscrow
Summary: Rasmodius had been a guardian to the old magic and it's secrets and truths thrumming within the valley for as long as he can remember. When the new farmer arrives at his old friend's abandoned farm however, Rasmodius finds that there is one more enigma blending in seamlessly into the mysterious energy of the valley.





	a forest of colours

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't played in ages but i still love this game and my cute farmer so here have this; more or less my own take on the junimos and a bit of lore with them and how they are connected to the farmer bc i'm a sucker for things like this.
> 
> If you enjoy the junimos as much as I do, then I hope you enjoy the story! I'm sure all of you have tons of of your own headcanons and ideas! Have a wonderful day, take care!
> 
> – Crow

 

 

* * *

 

_ **a forest of colours** _

 

The junimos have existed since, well, _forever_ Rasmodius guessed. They have dwelled in this world long before he was alive, he assumed they must be just as ancient as the arcane truths he sought and protected.

But then again, Stardew Valley had always been a rather _peculiar_ place; mines filled with various monsters and creatures from the dark, ancient dwarves hiding out in caves, a timid shadow brute unlike his kind – the Valley seemed to have its certain charm on both humans and the ancient spirits. Maybe not even the mysterious beings such as the junimos could resist the near magical pull of the valley.

Rasmodius prided himself in his vast knowledge of arcane wisdoms and powers, charms and spells, all encoded or forgotten in thick books covered in dust. But he had yet to build a steady communication between him and the tiny forest spirits. They shied away, hiding in their concealed huts with nothing more but a small whisper in the wind. The wizard of course, knew better than to feel frustrated or use force on these creatures; beings as old as them, should not be underestimated. The small twinge of disappointment however, still stung within him.

It was safe to say, that even when he foresaw the arrival of the new farmer in town, he was mildly surprised to find, that the junimos decided to unveil themselves to the farmer. He felt the small surge of pure natural energy oozing from the tiny creatures whenever they performed their little magic. With the help of ink on paper addressed to the newcomer, Rasmodius asked for their presence the very next day after their meeting with the junimos – and with the polite rap against his door and tentative steps climbing the stairs of his tower, he met the farmer for the very first time, face to face.

_Marcy_ , their – her name was Marcy.

And one look at her aura around her was enough for Rasmodius to know, who she was. 

_A blessed child_. 

Legends spun tales of children gifted with the touch of magic, a small amount of ancient power, which granted them unusual abilities, a gift shaped like a seed anchored deep within the very core of the child’s being. Distantly, he recalled a familiar face from a few years back – an old face, littered with wrinkles that deepened with all the smiles, a voice filled with unyielding fondness as the old farmer told him about his precious granddaughter back home in the city;

 

“ _My daughter sometimes brings her too when she visits me. Energetic little tyke, I’ll tell you, runs through my crops and hides in the trees, but alas; I can tell she loves these woods just as much as I do. One day maybe, this very forest might be all hers as well_.”

 

Rasmodius remembered the day well – the small surge of magic, the distant chirps of the junimos and in-between all, clear children’s laughter. Marcy had grown tall, taller than the wizard expected, but it could be attributed to the magical boost she received after having been touched by the pure energy of nature. It could also explain the unusual rosy hue of her irises, which twinkled as if stars were dancing in her eyes. A spark of curiosity filled wonder with underlying gentleness. 

The same eyes like her grandfather.

Even with the blessed spark in her aura, the wizard saw the ugly mist of anxiety that threatened to eat the soft shine of kindness – she was nervous, shoulders hunched as she awkwardly toed at his floorboards, while he introduced himself. She visibly brightened however, when Rasmodius conjured a single junimo, which wiggled and bounced before vanishing again.

“Was this the creature you encountered at the Community Centre?” he asked the farmer, who only nodded. “They call themselves the _Junimo_ ,”

Marcy listened with rapt attention to the short summary of the junimo history and, even though hesitant at first, leaned over the bubbling cauldron upon Rasmodius request. Blessed child, touched by the forest, what more could he give her? He filled a cup with the evergreen liquid from his cauldron and presented it to Marcy – _let her taste the forest itself_.

She was significantly less wary of the cup when she held it in her hands, but then again, Rasmodius attributed that to the curious glint in her coral eyes as she emptied the cup with swift gulps. Marcy’s face however, did go a little green.

 

* * *

 

After their encounter, the wizard kept an eye on the farmer; a plucky forest dweller she was, bloomed in her work as she nurtured her crops and crafted new tools, foraging whatever material she found on her trips into the forest. Sometimes, he would catch her as she daringly ventured into the mines, only then to catch her few hours later emerging from the caverns, covered in sooth and grime, admiring whatever new shiny gem she had gotten distracted by in the mines. Another time, admittedly an amusing sight, he watched how she caught fish after fish, but only for her to get slapped by almost each struggling fish she held up by the hook.

The land under her fingers thrived with life; the forest felt _alive_ , buzzing with natural energy, which hummed in the air with the occasional chirps of the odd junimo or two. What didn’t thrive however, were Marcy’s connections to the townspeople. The people were by no means malevolent; they were friendly and kind, even Rasmodius knew. Unfortunately, Marcy always had a problem successfully communicating with people – _strangers_. The wizard saw how her rosy aura of curiosity and wonder slowly succumbed to the dull clogging mist of anxiety and fear. For the time being, Marcy was unable to utter a single word to anyone, her only answers were nods or shakes of her head, short brown locks bouncing; sometimes, she tried to sign her words to the people, only for them to squint at her moving fingers quizzically before apologising for not knowing sign language.

Marcy had no voice for quite a long time.

The people in town had gotten used to their silent farmer, who often scuttled through the neighbourhood with arms full of fresh crops or fish or whatever tool or material she had busied herself with. Her pair of golden star-shaped earrings tinkling merrily with every movement. Rasmodius had sometimes listened in to the conversations of the people;

“ _Oh, Marcy brought me a fresh melon I requested for yesterday!_ ”

“ _I finally got my hands on an Earthcrystal, thanks to Marcy_.”

“ _The Slime problem? Ah yes, do not worry, Marcy was so kind to take care of that!_ ”

Oh, blessed child, you find your way into everyone’s heart; with kind smiles and gentle hands, youthful snickers and endearing honesty, all the while looking at the world with those curious, wonder filled eyes as twinkling stars dance within them.

Two years came and went – the run down _Wild Willow Farm_ Rasmodius’ old friend left behind sparked and sputtered with new life under Marcy’s diligent and patient care. She cycled through each season, watered her crops and plucked off the fruits of her hard work, experimented with them on new artisan flavours, while sometimes running off into the mines, only to limp home late at night littered in scratches and bruises but backpack heavy with ore and gems. The next day, she would chase her ducks and chickens as they made their way out of their fence, sometimes fishing her cat out of the chicken coop as the feline happily purred despite being covered in straw. Then, she ran after her cows and goats with the pail held high above her head, stumbling over truffles found by her pigs and then end up covered in wool as she sheared her sheep. When Rasmodius came at the right time, he could sometimes catch her picking up a Rabbits Foot, her face one of baffled terror as she fixed her single rabbit with a confused look. Quite amusing, he won’t lie.

With boundless energy each day, Marcy would skip back and forth through town and wave at the friends she had made, sometimes even stopping by to present them a simple gift along with a sunny smile. And while Marcy did not, Rasmodius noticed the longing and affectioned gazes some of the bachelors and bachelorettes pinned Marcy with as she returned to her work. He could see them falling, little by little, their hearts tugged into the vast forest of colours and stars of Marcy. Who would’ve thought that the plucky forest dweller would turn out to be an unconscious heartbreaker? Well, Rasmodius left her to her own devices, silently wishing her good luck in her romantic endeavours should she choose to pursue love.

 

* * *

 

Rasmodius had done extensive research on any kind of record of the junimos, even if there wasn’t too much of it, but being hungry for knowledge and understanding, the sparse texts barely deterred him. And with Marcy’s presence blending in almost wonderfully into the energy of the valley, he decided that she would do great as a new subject to the recordings of the junimos. The wizard had prepared rolls of text, scribbling down every bit of information he had on Marcy’s power, comparing them to written down discoveries of similar cases, analysing words and meanings and creating a whole new journal dedicated to the farmer herself. Rasmodius mused over the extent of Marcy’s attraction to the nature around her – her very core touched by the ancient magic itself, truly a blessed feat of the universe. He hoped, that one day he’d be able to meet more people like her.

After all, she never failed to surprise the wizard with her obliviousness to her own ability.

When he glanced into his magic to catch another sight of Marcy going on with her day, he rose his eyebrows in mild curiosity. It seemed that Marcy had made her way into the Secret Woods again, one of her favourite places, with how much she visited the spot. But instead of foraging hard wood, she had decided to have a quick nap instead in one of the few sunny spots, laying spread out like a star in the soft grass and snoozing away peacefully to the rustle of the trees and sunshine warming her brown skin.

Perhaps, Rasmodius thought, that was’t such a great idea as he watched how a small group of slimes started to get uncomfortably close to the resting farmer. He was sure Marcy would be in for a rude awakening, but as soon as he saw one slime get close enough to attack, he watched how the wee thing seemed to hesitate before shuddering visibly. Curious enough, the rest of the small monsters seemed to now steer clear of the human, wiggling on without sparing Marcy another glance.

And no second later, a junimo bounced onto the sleeping farmer’s shoulder, chirping merrily. A few more chirps were heard and three more creatures emerged, hopping onto Marcy and nestling themselves into her clothes or arms, content in spending some time with her. Despite not being awake to witness the small creatures, Marcy smiled drowsily in her sleep.

With a wave of his hand, Rasmodius got rid of the window that allowed him to see, deciding to leave her in peace. He hummed, hand stroking his beard thoughtfully – truly, what an enigma Marcy was. After another round of silence, he turned to look at his desk, overflowing with open books and several scrolls, all unfinished. And here he thought he might know everything about this valley already. Well, it definitely was something to keep himself busy with as he stepped closer to his desk, already dipping a feather into deep-black ink, picking up the journal had kept on Marcy. His eyes flitted over the text he already had, all the discoveries, his analyses, predictions, expectations, and he gently set the quill onto a new line.

Now, back to work.

 

* * *

 

The water within the lake was clear when Marcy blinked at her reflection in the water as the sun slowly set behind the mountain. She heard a small click, followed by the quiet _fwoosh_ of small flame igniting, no doubt to light a cigarette. She made a sound, quickly gaining the attention of her company, who watched her with dark eyes, the usual hard stare softening.

“Yeah?”

Marcy looked up, bringing up her hands to sign – her right hand closed in a fist with her thumb lying against her curled fingers, she brought it up to her mouth, softly tapping it once before changing it by stretching out thumb and forefinger and letting them touch once in an up and down motion. Dark eyes blinked; those were the signs for ‘ _secret_ ’ and ‘ _chirp_ ’, but in much quicker succession.

“Is that a new sign?”

Marcy’s lips quirked a little and she nodded.

“What for?”

“Junimo,” she said in such a quiet voice, barely a whisper above the wind.

A small chuckle.

“Like the forest spirits in the legends?”

Her smile only brightened, coral eyes lightening up with stars dancing within the glow of the setting sun, looking happy and mischievous as a pixie and for a moment, Sebastian forgot how to breathe. Marcy brought her hand up again, in a fist with her thumb upon her curled fingers, tapping it against her curved mouth once more.

“ _Secret._ ”

* * *

 


End file.
